The New Canterbury Tales: The Warrior's Tale
by TeresaC
Summary: Duncan, Joe, Methos and Richie are stuck in a snowstorm and pass the time by telling stories. Duncan goes first. Other tales will follow.


**The New Canterbury Tales: _The Warrior's Tale_**  
By Teresa C

A/N: For those of you who read The New Canterbury Tales: The Scholar's Tale, this will look very similar to it in the beginning. I've decided to rearrange the order of the stories, so MacLeod goes first, instead of Methos. The frame story, however, hasn't changed, so you'll see that here again. Sorry for any confusion.

Disclaimers: The rights to Highlander: The Series are owned by someone else. I also don't own the rights to the Bhagavad Gita.

* * *

_Prologue_

"Hey, MacLeod, what do you know about this?" Methos held up the issue of "The Magazine Antiques" he had picked up from the Highlander's coffee table.

"About what?" MacLeod called from the kitchen area of the loft.

"'The Sword of Ibn Fahdlan,'" Methos read.

"Oh that." MacLeod joined Methos in the living room area, and tossed him a beer. "I know it's a fake."

"How do you know that?" Methos sounded surprised.

MacLeod sat. "It might be an authentic piece, but calling it Ibn Fahdlan's sword is just promotional hype. Like when they find a submerged ruin and the papers all call it Atlantis."

Methos twisted open the beer and flipped the cap onto the table. "So they don't have any proof," he said.

MacLeod shrugged. "They may have some provenance, but I doubt it. Why?"

"No reason," Methos said, as he continued to read the article.

MacLeod took a long drink, eyeing the other immortal. "Ibn Fahdlan was a tenth century Arab," he commented. "His sword would have been curved and single-edged." He tipped his beer bottle toward the cover photo of a broad, straight, short sword. "Not like that."

Methos nodded, still reading.

"What's more, look at the size of the guard relative to the blade. Unless it's made out of balsa wood that grip is too heavy for the sword. It would never balance properly."

Methos nodded again. "How far away is this New Canterbury? I see it's in British Columbia."

MacLeod shook his head, smiling. "A day's drive in the summertime, when they hold their famous auction. Why? You want to buy it?"

"Of course not." Methos gave him an amused look. "I think I want to see it, though, before they sell it to someone. I'll rent a car and go have a look."

"You don't drive there in the winter," MacLeod said. "It's on the other side of the Rockies."

"It's April, not winter."

"It's winter there."

"So? You don't think a little winter weather is going to bother me, do you?"

MacLeod frowned. "Wait 'til Friday, and I'll go with you."

It took three people to accompany Methos to New Canterbury: MacLeod, who claimed to have old business contacts there he wanted to renew; Joe, who, upon learning from Methos of MacLeod's intentions, claimed to have a sudden interest in visiting points northern; and Richie, who declared with delight, "Road trip!"

Methos' choice of rental vehicle failed to meet with MacLeod's approval, so the Highlander upgraded Methos' contract to a larger SUV. He also insisted (with a cash offer) that a row of seats be removed, for greater comfort, paid the extra insurance, and took charge of the keys. Methos muttered something about "control freaks," but allowed MacLeod to drive, while he rode shotgun.

By midmorning they had crossed the U.S./Canada border, and had begun to climb into the mountains. What had been gray, dreary clouds at dawn became light fog and snow flurries. The highway remained clear, however, if wet, and traffic was brisk.

"So, Methos," Duncan asked, "What's your interest in Ibn Fahdlan's sword?"

"Just curious."

MacLeod rolled his eyes. No one had managed to get anything out of Methos on the subject.

"So, who was this Fahdlan guy, anyway?" Joe asked from the back seat.

Richie looked up, even pulling the Discman earphone from his ear.

"Ibn Fahdlan," MacLeod said. "He was an Arab in the tenth century who traveled with some Vikings. Part of his journal survives. All I recall is that he didn't care for them much. Methos? Care to tell us more?"

Methos smiled. "I think a story is a good idea, Mac. Why don't you tell us one?"

"I don't know Ibn Fahdlan's story."

"Tell us a different one."

"Then will you tell yours?"

"I want to hear everyone else's stories first," said Methos. "That's the deal."

"All right; I'll go first," MacLeod said. He thought for a moment and then began.

_The Warrior's Tale_

"Once a long time ago, two sets of cousins were struggling for the throne of Hastinapura."

"Where was this?" Richie asked.

"In India. Their conflicts escalated to all out war and most of the greatest men of the age allied themselves with one side or the other. The battle of their armies was going to be like an apocalypse. Nothing would be the same afterward and everything hung in the balance. If Duryodhana and his brothers, the Kauravas, won, the world would be in darkness, but if Yuddhishthira and his brothers, the Pandavas, won, the world would have an age of harmony and justice. The proper succession was unclear, and many of the world's most powerful kings had friends or family on both sides. Now Yuddhishthira and each of his brothers had been fathered by gods. Yuddhishthira's father was Dharma, the god of . . . of . . . rightness. Of everything being in its proper place. That's why Yuddhishthira himself embodied justice and stability. His middle brother - there were five Pandavas - was named Arjuna and he was the son of the god Indra. This made Arjuna the most powerful and skillful warrior the world had ever seen.

"Sounds like a good guy to have on your side," Joe said.

"He was, but he wasn't the only powerful or skillful warrior around. Both the Pandavas and the Kauravas had had the same teachers, and those teachers took sides, too."

"There were five Pandavas?" Richie asked. "How many of the other guys?"

"The Kauravas? Ninety-nine."

"Ninety-nine? Ninety-nine brothers?"

"And one sister. But that's all another story. Arjuna was also very pious. That was considered essential in a good warrior, and since Arjuna was the best, he was also very spiritual. In fact, he was good friends with a god. Krisna."

Richie snorted. "Okay, how do you get to be 'good friends' with a god?"

"Well, Krisna was in human form at the time."

"You mean like Jesus?"

MacLeod frowned. "Kind of, but this god had the form of a king, with armies and courtiers. He should have been on Arjuna's side in the war, but like so many other kings at the time, he had loyalties and ties to both sides. Both his friend Arjuna and Arjuna's cousin Duryodhana appealed to Krisna to fight for their side. Krisna's solution was to offer them each one aspect of himself. One of them could have all his armies and the other could have himself, alone, unarmed, and taking no part in combat. Arjuna got to pick first. Which do you think he chose? Methos, you don't get to answer. I know you know this story."

Methos nodded.

Richie answered. "The smart thing would have been to take the armies, but I suppose you're going to say he did the 'spiritual' thing and took the unarmed guy."

"Right. Duryodhana was ecstatic to get Krisna's armies to fight on his side, but Arjuna didn't hesitate to choose Krisna. He asked Krisna to drive his chariot. That was considered a non-combat position."

"God is my Charioteer," said Methos. "That should be a bumper sticker."

"I wonder what Arjuna's brother thought of his choice," said Joe.

"Well, Yuddhishthira trusted Arjuna to handle those things. Each brother had his own skill. That's part of what dharma means, too. Everyone has their job."

Joe said, "Sounds like the caste system."

MacLeod nodded. "Yeah. Anyway, the day of the great battle came. Both armies lined up on a holy field facing each other. Those who couldn't fight were nearby, watching. This was the battle that would determine everything.

Despite the rancor between the two sets of cousins, no one disputed Arjuna's position as the world's premiere warrior."

"No one?" asked Methos, innocently.

"Okay, no one except Karna, but that's another story, too." MacLeod took his gaze from the road long enough to give Methos a Look.

"Sorry. Go on."

"So, it fell to Arjuna to be the one to sound the horn to start the battle. Both sides respected him. Krisna steered Arjuna's chariot onto the field between the armies. Arjuna looked at the men on both sides. He saw his brothers, he saw his cousins. He saw uncles, brothers-in-law, and teachers. He saw many, many friends, on both sides, and suddenly, he didn't want them to fight. He didn't want to see his loved ones slaughtered."

MacLeod paused.

Richie fidgeted. "What did he do?" he finally asked.

"What do you think he should've done?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, Rich. What should Arjuna do?"

Richie thought for only a moment. "Well, it doesn't matter anyway, right? Nothing he says is going to stop the war or anything. They're still going to fight. And they'll all call him a chicken and then he won't be able to even scare anyone even if he is really good. So what's the point? He should just blow the horn and do his job. Let the chips fall where they may."

"Out of the mouths of babes," said Methos, grinning.

"Okay, Mr. Ancient WiseGuy," Richie said, "what do you think he should do? Not what he did, what do you _think_ he should do?"

"Me? He should have Krisna turn his chariot around, ride far away from the battle, and go live in a cave somewhere."

"Oh, right," said Richie.

"He can't do that," said MacLeod. "He's not a Brahmin; he's a Ksatriya."

"Of course," Methos said with mock earnestness. "Then he should go found a martial arts school and teach the next generation of warriors."

"And be completely shunned by all his family for shirking his duty?" MacLeod asked.

"Well most of his family will be dead at the end of the day, right? Or the end of the next, - what was it - eleven days? Someone will be on the throne, and Arjuna'll still be alive and able to train others."

"An Age of Darkness will fall if the Kauravas win. How well will his school do under his enemy's rule?"

"Ages of Darkness come and go, MacLeod. He'll still be alive. That's my answer. What do you say, Joe?"

Joe cleared his throat. "It's an age old problem, if you'll pardon the expression. If everyone chose other options besides war, the world would be at peace. But other people don't choose other options, so what should one man do? I want to hear how it really turned out. But, for me . . . I'm thinking he should ask the god that's right there in his chariot for advice."

"Aw, you do know this story, Joe," said MacLeod.

"No, Mac, I swear. It just seems kind of obvious, you know? What did Krisna tell him?"

"He told him a lot. Arjuna threw down his weapons in despair and asked Krisna, how can I do this? Start a battle that will kill those I love? Krisna said . . . Krisna told him a lot about how the world is, and about how people should behave, and about . . ."

"Hey, wait a minute, Mac," said Richie. "This is all happening right in front of the armies? With everyone waiting?"

MacLeod nodded. "It's a little strange, you're right. There must have been some kind of time freeze or something. Or their entire conversation took place outside of time. It was a very important conversation. God telling Man how things are. At the end, Arjuna, who had been really trying to understand, asked Krisna to reveal himself to Arjuna, in full god-like glory, so Arjuna could see true reality and understand this revelation."

"Mmm," said Joe. "In the Bible that sort of thing doesn't usually turn out so well."

MacLeod smiled. "I guess Krisna decided Arjuna could take it. He was half-god, after all. So Krisna took off the cloak of common humanity he had been wearing and overwhelmed Arjuna's consciousness with the sight of his true form."

"He passed out?" asked Richie.

"I don't know, exactly. But when it was over, and Krisna had gone back to being an ordinary charioteer, Arjuna understood."

"What did he understand?"

"That if your position is to be a warrior, the stability of the universe depends on you being one. If your job is to fight, then there is no blame to you for fighting and killing - no sin. If you do your job with purity, the outcome is not your responsibility. But if you fail to do it, the order of reality is threatened, and that's bigger than anyone's life or family."

"So Arjuna blew the horn?"

"Yes he did. And that battle began."

"Who won?"

"The good guys. But it's a really long story. It's called the Mahabharata, and the part I just told you is called the Bhagavad Gita."

* * *

A/N: This will be continued in The New Canterbury Tales: _The Watcher's Tale_. 


End file.
